This weekend I returned to the place I used to consider magical. The place I used to long to retire to. The place where Hemingway drank and Cubans arrived. However, I’ve found that in my four-year absence, Key West has been overrun with rubbers.
Two types of rubbers, actually.
The first type is men who wear rubber bands on their wrists. Not Livestrong rubber bands. I mean Office Depot rubber bands. With so many stores selling bracelets along Duval, I’m not sure why they would opt for a rubber band. I’m also not sure what deep philosophical meaning this fashion statement represents. I can only imagine they are longing for an office job.
The second type is women that violently rub their vaginas on objects, people, and street lamps. I witnessed three women gyrating on parked bicycles while posing for pictures. I also saw two women give a new meaning to bumping uglies. Such violent dry-hump-dancing in the keys is dangerous, considering the nearest hospital is 40 miles away.
These behaviors must change by the time I reach retirement age. Otherwise, I will have to consider a more appropriate and fashion-forward city – like New Orleans.